


The Dinner That Just Wouldn't End

by Elial_Shadowpine



Series: The Beauty of Temptation [2]
Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elial_Shadowpine/pseuds/Elial_Shadowpine
Summary: Karla, Hagen, KaeAskavi, Della and newcomer Serys have a private dinner that reveals Della's been keeping some secrets from her adopted parents. It only goes downhill from there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think there is anything special that needs to be warned for since nothing is shown. I will, however, warn that Della might result in some secondhand embarrassment.

~*~

The blackwood dinner table—probably also supplied by Karla's Uncle Saetan, Serys guessed—was a small, round, yet elegantly carved piece of art meant for an intimate number of guests. At best, it would seat perhaps eight, and only if they didn't mind the occasional jostling elbow.

The four were set at equal points apart, Karla facing Hagen, and Serys facing Della, a flaxen-haired witch with brilliant sapphire eyes. Well, and KaeAskavi, who had his own specially made chair, which must have been reinforced within an inch of its life.

A lovely vintage of wine had been set out, although Della was still young enough to have hers watered, Serys noticed, much to the younger witch's dismay. Elenis had brought the first course, salad with wild greens, baby spinach, evergreen nuts, and hothouse strawberries. KaeAskavi had been given a platter of a medley of raw meat.

Introductions had been short, and Serys tried not to focus on the awkward silence. Della's intelligent eyes studied her, as though she had far too many questions and couldn't decide which to ask first—or which were appropriate—while both Hagen and Karla appeared to be trying to avoid stating the obvious.

Serys speared a strawberry, along with some spinach and greens, and nearly gasped at the intensity of the flavor. "However did you come by pomegranate vinaigrette in Glacia?"

Karla looked up from her own plate and grinned. "They grow in Dhemlan. Uncle Saetan knows I love them, so he sends an obscene amount when they're in season. We have our fill of the fresh and process the rest so they're available all year round. I take it the food meets with your approval?"

"Definitely," Serys said enthusiastically, taking another bite and making a sound of appreciation. "You have a talented cook."

"She ought be." Karla chuckled. "She's a third cousin of Mrs. Beale. I had to fight half the coven to get her. It turned out her sister Ella was a Jewelless Blood treated as though she were no more than landen. I offered her a five year contract in my First Circle. That won over Cera Atwell. Really, I was just the first one to think of it and make the offer."

Della fastidiously ate first the strawberries, then the nuts, then the greens, in directly that order. "Mrs. Atwell has been trying to teach me to cook, but I'm better with potions. Do you come from Dhemlan, Lady Serys? You can't be Glacian."

"Why do you say that?" Serys asked, with a flicker of amusement.

"Because you recognize the taste of pomegranate," Della replied promptly. "Glacians don't."

"Except for those of us privileged enough to travel or afford expensive imports," Karla noted. "We're lucky to have friends in high places."

"Still. Do you come from Dhemlan? You look like it," Della said, bluntly, without the same abrasiveness Karla's tones often had, Serys noted, but lacking tact nonetheless.

"Della," Hagen chided. "Don't be rude to our guest."

"Papa, I'm just asking a question—"

I'd best say something before this goes any further. Serys drew a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing the slight curve to a delicate point. "My father is Dea al Mon, but my mother is Hayllian."

Della's eyes widened incredulously. "How'd that happen?"

"Della!" Hagen and Karla rebuked in unison.

*Della, do not shame your dam. You know better,* KaeAskavi added, broadcasting to the entire room. Serys quietly thanked the Scelties in Queen Sylvia's Court for teaching her how to hear and speak to kindred.

But it seemed she ought say something before the situation grew out of hand, because Della looked about ready to cry. "It's all right," she spoke up. "Della, you could have asked more courteously, but the question is a fair one. I believe you are old enough to know the detailed version. Queen Karla, Prince Hagen, that is your decision, of course."

A worried expression passed Karla's face, but was gone as soon as it appeared. She nodded. "We can't keep her wrapped in spidersilk, after all."

Hagen muttered, "We could try."

*Unsuccessfully,* KaeAskavi added.

"Haven't you met Surreal?" Serys asked, wondering how much exposure Della'd had to the SaDiablos, who seemed to enjoy adopting wayward witches into the family.

"Once or twice," Della said cautiously. "Why?"

"Because Surreal also shares a dual bloodline—the same as mine, except her mother was Dea al Mon and the male who sired her Hayllian."

"Oh. I didn't know."

How in the world…?

Never mind. That was a question that could be answered later—after a discussion with Karla. Della was fourteen, and from everything Jaenelle had told her about the closeness of the coven, it seemed odd that she appeared so… isolated.

"In that case," Serys began, distracting herself from her concerns. "Father had an unusual desire to see Terreille, the Light Realm, and, there, he met my mother, a Province Queen in Hayll, who became taken with him for a time. I am given to understand she found a Dea al Mon male exotic."

"People? Exotic?"

How sheltered had this child been, that she didn't even know how easy it was for some to dehumanize one another? She shot a concerned glance at Karla, but the Queen's attention was firmly on her daughter.

"Yes," she said, finally. "There are those—especially in Terreille, then, before the witchstorm—who care not for an individual's personality or self, but want them only for superficial means."

The young witch's slightly upturned nose wrinkled. "That's stupid. What about love?"

Ah, perhaps too many romantic novels. She's still young, and from what Jaenelle told me of Karla's history, maybe she wanted to shelter her as long as she could.

Even that still left her with concern. Regardless of Karla's past, Della was a Queen, and within six years of reaching her age of majority. The fact that, in just this short conversation, she seemed in many ways still childlike, was troublesome.

Karla chuckled. "It is stupid, but not everyone cares about love, dear. Life isn't like the stories, especially not in Terreille, not then, most of all. But let's not interrupt Lady Serys's story."

A guilty expression directed at Serys. "My apologies, Lady."

"It was only a simple mistake, and you will learn more of Court manners in due time, I'm sure," Serys continued smoothly. "As for the witch who birthed me, once Father held no more interest for her, she had him shaved and banished."

The girl's eyes widened even further. "What'd he do?"

Karla and Hagen exchanged glances but seemed prepared to let Serys explain. "Nothing. In Terreille, corrupt and tainted Queens would shave males as a performance. The most pain and suffering that could be squeezed out, the better. I was young, my Birthright Ceremony only a few years prior, and luckily, Father was still in her good graces then and so paternity was acknowledged. However, I was forced to witness the 'performance'—part of my Court training, you see."

An audible gasp came from Karla, and the sympathy on the Queen's face made Serys's gut twist. "I don't want pity," she said quietly. "I survived a great deal, as I believe have we all."

*This one speaks truth,* KaeAskavi said approvingly.

"What happened after?" Della asked, attention rapt and horrified.

"Father became a traveling merchant, to the west, where Dorothea and Hekatah had less power, eventually settling in Tacea, an island Territory near Chaillot. I was a little bit younger than you then, and I met a group of young, promising witches. We formed a coven in secret and learned together. I made my Offering to the Darkness when I was seventeen. I was twenty when the taint reached Tacea, too, and Father hurried us through the service fairs."

Serys paused, in case the girl had any questions, but Della waited patiently. "We were desperate for a Queen, anyone, to offer us a contract. It wasn't until a gentle Kaeleer witch informed me of what it meant here to be shaved. It was within our last three days before we would have had to return to Terreille—and Queen Sylvia came through the fair that day. Our particular dual bloodline intrigued her enough to speak to us in more detail and find out what happened. She already knew refugees from Terreille, and what the Queens there would do to innocents.

"It wasn't easy, though," she continued. "Even though Father tried his best to raise me true to Dea al Mon and Kaeleer sensibilities, I still grew up in Terreille. There were still—things—from Terreille that differed in Kaeleer that I had to learn, but learn them I did."

The door opened just then, providing a welcome interruption. Elenis bustled in to bring in the main entree, huge bread bowls filled with a savory beef stew, the smell wafting in the air, making Serys's mouth water. She even set one before KaeAskavi, larger for the size of the cat; evidently he had picked up some human habits living among Della and her family.

They all dug in, focusing on the delicious food, spiced heavily with paprika, an unusual addition to stew but one that added some bite to the flavor. Everyone gobbled up seconds—and Della and KaeAskavi had thirds, which was not unusual for growing Blood, regardless of race.

In fact, it occurred to Serys that due to their weakened bodies and the effect that their Jewels had on them, she and Karla ought eat more themselves. She reached for two more bread bowls, filled both half-full with stew, and set one in front of each of them.

Karla stared at her. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat more. You're a Healer. You know why." She deliberately ate a large spoonful of stew. "You're not the only one, you know."

Hagen looked confused, as did Della. Since they might need to know for the future, Serys explained. "Karla and I have bodies weakened by physical conditions. Mine by a birth-born condition, hers by witchblood. I'd be willing to bet that Jaenelle's body would benefit from eating more, too."

"Jaenelle is a special case," Karla pointed out. "We don't know how Twilight's Dawn affects her metabolism."

"Twilight's Dawn has a spectrum of the darker Jewels, but it's her unstable body that needs the support—the same as you and me. Do I need to hand feed you? Eyrien going in for a landing?"

Hagen choked on his wine, and Della laughed uproariously. Completely inappropriate for a "lady"—but screw propriety. She would make a far better Queen if she ignored those who would pen her into a cage of aristo society's making, and instead embraced who she was at heart. Refinement, perhaps, but that wasn't the same thing.

*What Eyrien? What landing? I do not understand.* KaeAskavi projected confusion, and a mental picture of an Eyrien landing in the middle of a bread bowl filled with stew.

That was too much. Everyone burst out in raucous laughter, and the tension broke. A moment later, Serys met Karla's gaze—and watched her arch an eyebrow as she took her own large bite of stew.

Karla quirked her lips and winked. "Kiss kiss."

Relief filled Serys. Maybe the two would find common ground, after all. Because, even though she had only known the formidable, abrasive, quirky, and snarky witch for less than a day, Serys found herself beginning to care—and perhaps the beginnings of something more, if she wasn't careful.

A tendril of fear worked its way through her. She'd been here, once before, falling for a woman who would never, could never, love her back. Love at first sight? Such a thing didn't exist. Yet… she felt herself drawn to Karla in a way she had never felt before, not even Liliane.

That terrified her more than anything, but she couldn't deny that as Karla and her family surrounded her, laughing in merriment, the adoration they felt for each other palatable, welcoming her into their private life, she could not understate their love—that they shared openly with her.

It was a precious gift she had found only in Kaeleer, never in Terreille—and Serys wasn't sure she would ever truly become accustomed to it.

Karla seemed to notice Serys's sudden melancholy. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm just enjoying the company." Serys sipped her wine.

It was true, after all, she mused as she watched the interactions between the three humans and the kindred. They were just as likable as the SaDiablos—even if Karla seemed to be convinced that her acerbic nature would keep everyone at bay. Not bloody likely with me, she thought, mentally accepting the challenge to become closer to the slightly older witch.

Conversation remained quiet until Mrs. Atwell brought out the dessert, a delightful custard fruit tart with kiwi and hothouse berries adorning the top, held in place by a sweet glaze. KaeAskavi apparently had a sweet tooth, but no taste for berries, so his dessert was a large honey-glazed custard tart.

There were no words, only sounds that would've been more appropriate coming out of a bedroom as they ate. "Remind me someday," Serys said between bites to Karla, under her breath, "that sex can be as good as dessert. Because right now, that's in serious question."

Karla paused a moment, eying her curiously, before she chuckled. "Mrs. Atwell loves a chance to show off, and when she does, she never disappoints—and we reap the rewards." 

Before too long, the fruit tart was demolished, with nary a crumb remaining. Karla leaned back in her plush chair—one of the benefits of being a Queen; nobody in their right mind would say a thing if you preferred to surround your dinner table with plush armchairs rather than the usual hard wood—and yawned. "It's getting late. Della, you—"

"Mother," Della said with more than a hint of exasperation, "if you're going to lecture me about bathing, completing assignments from my tutors, and getting an early bedtime, you can save your breath. I know the drill."  
At this, Hagen gazed at Karla with a fond smile. Not one with any romantic heat behind it, but the smile of one who has shared a great intimacy with another regardless of romance. "Do you now, witchling? We shall have to begin switching it up to become a bit less predictable."

Della rolled her eyes skyward, and Serys fought the urge to chuckle as well. She remembered her own days of being a frustrated, sarcastic adolescent far too well. "I don't need to be babysat like Cousin Daemonar. I do my work, and have I given my tutors cause to complain?"

"No," drawled Karla, "but I have cause to complain about strangle males pawing over my daughter."

Oh, shit. Suddenly, Serys wanted to be anywhere else in the Realms, and that included some particularly unsavory or otherwise embarrassing spaces. Perhaps Saetan's desk would provide a safe haven. No, too far away. Damn Lucivar for leaving.

Della sighed dramatically, leaning her elbows on the table. "Mother, I'm old enough for my Virgin Name. I know you don't like males—it's obvious to anyone who has half a lick of sense in their skull—but I'm not you. I do like males. And I trust Aethan."

This time, Hagen's eyes narrowed, and he responded. "And just what have you and this Aethan of yours done?"

"Nothing!" Della flushed, and glanced furiously at the Arcerian cat in the chair next to her, as if he'd reminded her that she wasn't being entirely truthful and one of them could tell it. "Okay, mostly nothing. We kissed and snuggled out in the stables. Which, by the way, feels like an iceberg. Since neither of us wanted to risk delicate body parts freezing to each other, or something else altogether, the only clothes that came off were gloves. Promise," she added hurriedly under Karla's disapproving expression. 

"How long have you known this Evan male?"

"Aethan, Mother. I've known him since you and Papa adopted me after KaeAskavi's dam insisted it was time for me to leave. He's one of the stableboys, and even though I don't always want to ride the same horse, his guesses are something to behold. No matter what time of day or night I go out to the stable—the right horse is saddled. And then Aethan started riding with me, and we started talking, and… it's not like I have friends in the Glacian Court." 

At this, Della's brilliant blue eyes lowered, eyelashes blinking quickly. "There aren't any games with Aethan. He doesn't vie with the other males for my Virgin Night like it's some token reward, some way to curry political flavor. Or… worse," she said, the last word softer than the rest.

Thank the Darkness Hagen isn't a Warlord Prince, Serys thought in relief, until she looked at Karla and saw just as much rage compressed into a much smaller package. Surreal had told her once of a comment some ass named Falonar had said, that witches were kept off the killing fields because they were too deadly. Looking at the molten hate burning in Karla's eyes, and the sudden chill in the air that felt like a pile of snow had been dumped into the middle of the room, she suddenly agreed with that assessment.

"Worse?" Karla said, her voice deadly calm. "What happened? If you don't tell me, witchling, your backside is going to ache for a week."

Della rolled her eyes. "We both know you're not going to thrash me. Lucivar's the closest who ever comes to that—and that's just training."

"The point, Della." Karla's eyes narrowed, rage boiling beneath the surface.

Hell's Fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful, Serys thought, watching the two strong-willed witches warring between one another.

Before she could convince herself that this was a really stupid idea, Serys interjected. "Your mother is right, Della. If anything—untoward—has happened, we must know of it. We can't afford to let tainted males roam unchecked."

KaeAskavi looked at Della with a meaningful expression, dead obvious to anyone with a functioning brain that there was a private conversation going on furiously between the two.

Finally, Della sighed, defeated. "Prince Thom—it's never gone beyond words," she added hurriedly. "But he keeps saying I'm old enough I should've had my Virgin Night at least a year ago. And he keeps hinting, that I need an experienced male to guide me, and he promises he'll treat me right, and that he'll be gentle, and that he's brought enough witches through with their inner webs intact—like he's the only male in Glacia who can. I know damn well that's bullshit."

"That son of a whoring bitch," Karla snarled, followed by a streak of Eyrien curses that would've made Serys blush had she not been used to the frequent use of the Eyrien race's veritable collection of imaginative and anatomically impossible oaths. "He's First Circle. I'll have him expelled."

"Please don't," Della begged. "It's… he's not… he's not the only one. He's not even the worst. It's just words."

That was it. Karla exploded, her rage leashed only enough to protect the blackwood table, but the rest of the furnishings, save the chairs they sat on, were entirely destroyed. It happened in only an instant. "Tell me the worst. Now."

KaeAskavi directed his attention to Della. *What haven't you told me?*

"Or me, for that matter," Hagen said darkly, his eyes filled with predatory danger. Serys thanked the Darkness again that Hagen wasn't a Warlord Prince, or the entire male populace of the First Circle might become very, very dead in short order. Looking at his expression, they might anyway.

"It's Prince Garrett," she said reluctantly. "He—he catches me when I'm alone, when KaeAskavi isn't with me, when he's taking his time away from court. He'll grab me close to him and kiss me, and it's all slobbery. I'd have less drool from a Sceltie."

"What else does he do?" Karla crooned, in a voice eerily similar to Daemon's, but yet… wrong. 

Hell's Fire, no, Serys thought in a panic. That voice was akin to that of one dancing the edge of the Twisted Kingdom. All Black Widows flirted like a sensuous yet savage wraith, discordant, twisting on the edge of the line between sanity and madness… but this, this was far more severe, and the slightest provocation could send her over the edge, beyond anyone's reach.

Della shuffled. "Well… he's like Prince Thom. Prince Garrett keeps saying how I need an experienced male for my Virgin Night, like he's the only one who can do it right."

If she hadn't spent that summer with the SaDiablos, Serys might well have cringed hearing those harsh words come from someone who ought be able to take her time growing up. But Karla's Court, between what Hagen told me and this, may push the issue until there's no other choice in order to protect her.

Karla whispered, "What else?" in a tone that brooked no argument.

In a way, it was like Jaenelle's sepulchral voice, but without the power of Witch backing it. That didn't always matter; even though Serys hadn't met Jaenelle until she had stepped down from her rule as Queen, there were times that she would flip instantly from her normal cheerful self into she who exulted in the abyss… the Queen of Ebon Askavi. Witch.  
The young witch blushed. "He… um. I guess he offered. Technically. He didn't actually come out and say it, but… Well. Garrett's either not too bright or he did it on purpose. He wasn't just not shielding his thought, he was projecting them. I mean, someone who didn't get trained in barriers maybe wouldn't know, but—"

Prince Hagen cleared his throat, interrupting Karla before her rage could overflow. "Della, all members of the Court are required to receive that instruction. No. It was on purpose. Why didn't you tell us before?"

Della shrugged. "It didn't seem that important. He always backed off when I told him to, and nobody's stupid enough to try to mess with me with KaeAskavi around."

*Little one," KaeAskavi broke in gently. *You should not depend on me alone for your safety. I can only tolerate the presence of the city for so long, and I must return to the wild on occasion. I can't always be there to protect you."

She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. I'll listen next time. Promise."

"Speaking of promises," Karla said darkly, and snapped into her Queen's voice, commanding presence. "KaeAskavi, why did you not report this?"

The great cat looked embarrassed. "She made me promise. I haven't left her side since."

"Not even for baths and letting me use the toilet with some damned privacy," Della snapped back.

"Children," Karla snapped. "This is not the place, nor the time."

Serys decided against her better judgement to step in, before the conversation went any further downhill. "KaeAskavi, that you held to your word is commendable, but you forget one of the most important rules of Protocol.""

KaeAskavi tilted his head to the side, looking confused.

Serys sighed deeply. She remembered the days of being a hormonal young adolescent herself—and hopefully Della was more rational than Serys in those days. "Della, you should know Protocol by now. The first rule that all males much follow is to protect, honor, and cherish, to quote he who taught me."

*Uncle Saetan?* Karla sent over a distaff thread.

*Who else? I came from Terreille, so I had… extra lessons in Protocol. I think I could recite the book backwards and forwards by memory.*

"The second is to serve. The third is to obey," Serys recited. "Obedience gets discarded when it conflicts with the first two laws."

She fell silent; it wasn't her place to criticize KaeAskavi more than she already had. That was Karla's place, as Queen and mother.

As Serys expected, Karla directed her steely gaze at KaeAskavi, who looked thoroughly chastened. "In this case, Prince KaeAskavi, you wished to keep the confidence of a friend—but in doing so, you put your friend in danger, and you broke the most important rule of Protocol."  
But she softened. "Let's this be something to learn from, and we won't speak of it again."

KaeAskavi looked relieved, and somewhat distracted, as though he was speaking mind-to-mind with Della. He probably is, Serys thought, briefly wondering what sort of conversations a kindred Opal Jeweled Warlord Prince would have with a young Queen, but she shook her head free of that. She took another nutcake and respected their privacy.

"Well," Karla said suddenly. "I'd say dinner is done. Della, you know 'the drill,' as you put it. Hagen, Serys, join me for some whiskey in the parlor?"  
Serys inclined her head, as Hagen did the same. "I'd like that."


End file.
